A Song of Light and Shadow
by Omnistar
Summary: "Winter Is Coming." They all knew it was. It was only a matter of time. But "Winter" never meant the season, and Brandon Stark knew that most of all. And if what he has seen is true, then the world will surely fall into darkness. Generally, I will rate this as T, however, these stories, the show and books, can be a bit graphic, so I will put ratings where they are needed. Rated T.
1. Prologue

**A Song of Light and Shadow**

**I hope you guys like this. Don't worry, I will explain everything that is going on a bit later.**

Disclaimer: If I were G.R.R. Martin, would I be writing fanfiction?

Prologue

Seven and three. That is how many times he saw it. The horror. It haunted his dreams, he could see _them_ when a closed his eyes, when he was lost in thought. His father was right: _Winter Is Coming._ Bran never felt so cold in his life thinking about them. For three long, horrible weeks he looked into the deepest and darkest pasts of the world. Old Nan…. He should have listened better to Old Nan. Though he did listen more than the other Stark children.

By the Old Gods, if only he had heeded Osha's warning and begged Robb to not go south. But not even twenty thousand men could stop the horror that was coming for the Realm. This much he knew, and that struck him harder than the truth that Winter was coming for everyone and everything. What could a cripple do against the darkness? Seven Hells, he was as lost now as he was after he fell from the tall tower of Winterfell, if more! He then felt a small hand on his right shoulder that brought his eyes and mind out of the bottomless darkness he stared into for hours when seeing the visions of the Others.

"Are you alright, young one?" the small humanoid creature asked.

"I'm fine, Leaf," Bran answered, "I have just been thinking."

Leaf look at Bran with her timeless eyes, studying him. She knew, or at least she guessed, as to what he was thinking of, but she did not pursue him in the thought. Such things would be spoken of soon enough. She had seen two hundred years of the world, but she feared that the knowledge of the Children would not be enough to hold the darkness at bay. It used to be that they could hold it at bay a very long time ago, but that was when the Children and Men lived in harmony and even before Men came to the lands they called Westeros. Those times, however, were long gone, and the Children were reduced to numbers that were a laughable shadow of the glory they once were.

The glory of the Children, however, was neither in wealth, nor in structures, but was in their great knowledge. Even though they still knew more than the race of Men, they were still dying and their knowledge and wisdom with them. Their secrets were disappearing from the world like light would disappear during the Long Night. Leaf shuddered at the thought of the world enduring another Long Night.

"What happened to him?" Bran asked, sensing Leaf's thoughts.

"To whom?" Leaf answered.

"The last hero," Bran said, staring further into the darkness, "I heard a story from a kindly old woman I knew as 'Old Nan.' She told me that when mankind was on the very brink of defeat, he went looking for the Children. I know that he found them, but I always wanted to know what happened to him."

Leaf looked at Bran. She thought for a moment. The tale only grew sadder, darker... and darker. What madness drove him to do as he did she did not understand. The gods spoke to Men differently than to the Children. Gods _answered_ differently. A prince born to be a warrior: a leader, a hero. A prince that must sacrifice everything he loves in order to protect all the world from the gather darkness. 'He was the sword in the darkness. The shield that guarded the realms of Men.' A light against the shadow. The fire that shields from the ice. She knew there was a song about him, but she could not remember what it was. Of all the songs she knew, she remember that was the song that struck her the deepest. Why could she not remember it?

"He died, Bran," Leaf answered, "after his task was complete. After the War was won."

Bran looked still looked into the darkness, but there was a fire in his eyes, now. And that fire filled her with wonder. Sometimes there was a human that surprised her in the greatest of ways. A human that she knew was different from all other Men. Someone who retained the honor of the Old Ways. Bran was one of these Men; that much she knew. And it filled her with hope that there were some that Men were not weak.

"Brynden wants to see you, Bran," Leaf remembered, feeling ashamed that she forgot.

That did get Brans attention, and he finally snapped away from his thoughts fully. He looked at Leaf and nodded. Calling for Hodor, he was brought back to the old Three-eyed Crow. He found Brynden in his Weirdwood throne. The roots seemed to covering him more and more every day. He has also grown paler as the days went on. Bran wondered how long before the old crow would pass.

"Brandon Stark," Brynden said slowly, "you come back to me at last. The hour is very late, later than we think. It is almost upon us. You already know. You have seen it."

Bran could only nod as he waited for the crow to continue. Brynden, or the Three-eyed Crow, knew much and lived far longer than any mere mortal. Bran could have only guessed that Brynden was a dragon taken on human flesh, or that his magic might have made him live longer, he didn't know.

"I do not have long, Brandon," he said quietly, "and neither do you. War is coming. It is already here. Your Westeros has fought against itself for too long. There is disunity. And that disunity will be the world's undoing. Always has the Realm been divided, though. Seven against Three."

Bran wondered at that. He seemed to think that was important somehow, but Bran was never able to figure it out. Seven against Three. He waited for Brynden to continue, though, the old man seemed lost in thought.

"Seven against Three," the Crow repeated, "It should be Seven _with_ Three. There must be Three, but I only count Two. One is still far off to the east, and the other… I cannot see him, he is in darkness. There must be Seven, I only count Three. You are one the Seven, another is to the South: a Huntsman with a Golden Rose is hat and a crow on his shoulder. Yet, he carries none of the gear of a huntsman. He carries books and a chain. The Third of the Seven is in the east as well. A small Lion that looks fully grown. He has bowed before one of the Three in the east. There is one who claims to be the Third of the Three, but he is not a clear image, and he wears a mummer's mask."

Bran looked closely at the old man. A single tear rolled down his check. For what, Bran did not know. Yet, he was silent, waiting for Brynden to gather himself. The old master was failing, and Bran knew that he wouldn't last long.

"Brandon," Brynden said, "you must survive. You must. Winter is coming, and you rally the North behind you. You are the key to the Seven and the Three. If you fail, the world fails with you. If the Three fail, the Seven will fall soon after them. And if the Seven do not unite, the Three will not have the power to aid us against the Long Night. You must make sure the Three unite the Seven. You must."

Bran nodded and tried to keep tears from falling himself. The old man looked like he was expecting this moment for a long time. Like he wanted death to finally give him the rest he so very much wanted.

"I will, m'lord," Bran said softly, "You have my word."

Brynden chuckled. He couldn't remember the last time he heard the words "m'lord." He couldn't say he was overly fond to hear them again, but to hear the voice of his pupil was comforting.

"Brandon," he struggled to say, "take care of her for me, when she comes. You will know her when you see her. Because she will give you hope. Take care of her. Give her your wisdom and council."

"I will, m'lord," Bran said again.

"Good," Brynden chuckled as he looked upwards from his throne and muttered to himself, "I am coming home, my love."

Bran then heard his last breath, and wondered if hope really was going to come.


	2. Chapter 1

A Song of Light and Shadow

**Hey, guys, thanks for the reviews. I am going to warn you now, there will some M rating for language, but it won't be for too long. Now onto the story!**

Chapter 1

Daenerys

The Dothraki horse lord stared at her in disbelief. It was impossible, it could not be real. But it was real. All too real. Danny returned Khal Jhaqo's stare in anger. She did, after all, consider Jhaqo a traitor for not joining her cause after the death of her husband, Khal Drogo. Instead, Jhaqo, like so many others in Drogo's original khalasar, declared himself as the new Khal and divided the khalasar so that Danny was left with almost nothing. Left to die in the desert along with others that were too weak to go with the many new Khals. She remembered still the vengeance she swore against Jhaqo for the rape and murder Ko Mago, his blood rider, committed against poor Ereoh. Danny's dragon, Drogon, stood behind her. His eyes had a fire in them that showed clearly the rage of Daenerys Targaryen in seeing such a horrid traitor. A man that her lord husband once loved and trusted.

"How are you not dead?" Jhaqo asked in fear and disbelief.

"One does not easily kill the blood of the dragon," Danny answered, eyes staring angrily into the depths of Jhaqo's soul, "I should kill you right now."

"You will not," Jhaqo said, "not even with that beast of yours. You will die, '_khaleesi,'_ but not before I kill your beast and have a taste of the cunt that brought Drogo to his knees. He would have been better off not marrying you, but you lead him from the Dothraki way. My blood riders, kill the beast and take the girl!"

Drogon roared furiously at the approaching Dothraki warriors. They were both hopelessly outnumbered, but Danny knew that Drogon would put up a fight to his last breath for him. Drogon roared again and breathed fire at the blood riders, killing most of them. His fire was turning darker as he grew older. The dark red flames sent the blood riders screaming, but more came still. They were surrounded, and not even Drogon's furry could keep them at bay.

"Drogon, go!" Danny screamed, trying to get her "child" out place before it was too late, "You must leave! Go now!"

Drogon, however, stood his ground, not letting anyone come near his "mother." Danny was proud that the dragon would stand next to her to the end, but she did not want her "child" dead. It was when Danny thought that they were both about to die did they all hear two other roars come out of south. Danny up to see two other dragons rushing to where Danny and Drogon were. The Dothraki, except for the blood riders and Jhaqo himself, threw down their weapons, mounted theirs horses, and scattered in all directions. Drogon took advantage of this moment and swept the blood riders off their feet with his tail and then burned them alive.

The other two dragons, Viserion and Rhaegal, flew around the other Dothraki until they were all cornered like a sheep corned by wolves. All of them afraid, all of them expecting to die. Danny looked at Jhaqo and smiled. As she came closer to him. The dragons all had terrible furry in their eyes at seeing their "mother" threatened. There was both a satisfaction and sadness in her eyes. She look at Jhaqo for a moment, who was staring at her in anger and fear, and then returned to Drogon's side. Drogon growled and lifted his wingspan to show the Dothraki just how big he was. His wings covered them in shadow, and all of them bowed down to Danny in fear. All but Jhaqo who remained on his horse and had a proud look.

"_Dracarys,"_ Danny said darkly to Drogon.

Drogon then breathed a large cone of black fire at Jhaqo and she heard him scream in agony as the dragon turned him and his horse into the nothing but ask. Danny watched, but she couldn't help but weep a little. She wept for her husband, Drogo, her dead son Rhaego, those who died in the Red Waste, she even wept for Jorah Mormont, who she sent away for betraying her.

She then turned to the khalasar, which was filled with people bowing before her. Their faces were buried in the ground, and none looked up to see she her or her dragons. Danny, however, told them to all stand. They did, but they could not meet her eyes. All that were with her while Drogo was still alive knew that they were traitors, and they all believed they were going to die. Yet, their death did not come, and they were all confused as to why.

"No, I will not kill you," Danny said sensing their confusion, "I offer you freedom. Any who wish to leave may do so, but I will not forgive a second time. Any who wish to join me will be forgiven, and I will make sure each and every one of you are given better lives. However, I want some of you to go to the other Khals and tell them that I plan on taking back what is mine. I plan on restoring my power and make sure that those who betrayed my lord husband, Drogo, will be dully punished for not following his queen. I will make sure that each khalasar knows that I am their _khaleesi_ and that I do not accept treachery within my ranks. You go to the other Khals and tell them I am going to take what is mine. Go tell them that I will have their allegiance. Tell them that I will go to Westeros. Tell them that I will take back what is mine with Fire and Blood."

The crowd cheered, they knew that she would keep her word, and that she was now more powerful than any Khal that has ever been or ever will be. Now, however, she had to deal with other enemies before she could return to Westeros. She had to deal with the Second Sons, the Sons of the Harpy, the Yunki, and Qarth. However, she couldn't help but remembering the words of the Shadowbinder said to her:

"_To go north, you must journey south. To reach west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back, and to touch the light, you must pass beneath the shadow."_

'_What truth will I find in Asshai that I do not already know? And why would I need to go north?'_ she thought to herself. Then she remembered other visions of her dead brother, Rhaegar: _'Three heads makes the Dragon.'_

'_I am the Dragon,'_ she thought, _'and I will take what is mine, with Fire and Blood.'_

**(A/N:) Thanks for reading, guys. Read and review!**


	3. Chapter 2

A Song of Light and Shadow

**Hey, everyone, thanks for your reviews. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

Chapter 2

Jon

_"For the Watch!"_ they muttered as they stabbed Jon snow repeatedly in tears.

Jon Snow fell to the icy ground while his so called "Brothers" watched him bleed. He tasted his own blood on his lips as his warmth fled from him. He slowly closed his eyes as the cold gripped him. With his dying breath, he called out to Ghost in his mind. Then, all went black.

Jon then found himself in quarters, clawing at the door, but he was not himself. Snow white paws scratched viciously at the door, trying to break through, but he was unable. He silently whimpered to himself, trying to figure a way out. In despair he laid under the table for what seemed to be hours. Night gathered before he heard movement at the door. He took an aggressive stance, ready to attack anything that walked through that door. When the door opened, Edd walked through.

"Ghost?" Edd asked, surprised to see the white direwolf in Jon's old quarters, "What are you doing here?"

Sensing no threat from Edd, Ghost silently zipped past Edd, and sniffed out the scent of where Jon's body was. The Watch had put the body on a cart, ready to bury it on the morrow, when Ghost found it. He softly whimpered. Edd came up next to Ghost. Tears ran down his check as Ghost gently nudged at his fallen master.

"I am sorry, Ghost," Edd said, though he was sure the direwolf could not understand him.

Ghost then nudged at Edd's arm. Edd looked into Ghost's eyes before Ghost looked back at Jon, then at Edd again. Ghost then began moving towards the gate. Ghost looked back at Edd, who was staring back at Ghost in confusion, and then Ghost nodded towards Jon's body.

"I must be crazy for following him," Edd muttered to himself as he picked up Jon's body and followed Ghost.

Edd took a horse and place Jon on top of it. He then mounted the horse himself to keep Jon from falling off. When the gate was opened, Ghost sprang out into the night. Edd followed Ghost into the night. The direwolf was leading him south. Though why, Edd was not sure. They came to the Gift, where the armies of Stannis Baratheon had made camp. Most of those armies, however, were gone. According to a letter Jon received some time earlier, Stannis Baratheon and his forces were crushed trying to take back Winterfell. Though Edd wondered why Ghost led them here, in the back of his mind, he was sure he already knew. If he was right, he did not want to be here at all.

They approached a particularly large tent in the center of the camp. The tent was red, and was brightly illuminated. Ghost stood before the tent. For the first time, he howled. The howl was great and terrible to behold, but it was also like that of a song. It was a cold howl, and yet Edd's heart was strangely warmed in hearing it. Yet, there was also command behind it as well. The light of the moon came out from behind the clouds and struck the wolf. Ghost appeared to be glowing beneath the moon. He stood tall and proud as his blood red eyes pierced into the tent.

From out of tent stepped Melisandre, the Red Priestess, her red eyes met Ghost's first. She looked deeply in them and opened her mouth as to speak to the direwolf, but he turned his head back and looked towards Edd and the body of Jon Snow. Melisandre followed Ghost's gaze until her eyes rested upon Jon Snow as well.

"It appears Snow did not have his direwolf near him like I advised," Melisandre said grimly before looking at Edd, "Bring him into the tent."

Edd dismounted his horse and brought Jon's body into the tent like Melisandre asked.

"What are you going to do to him?" Edd asked coldy.

"Why don't you ask Jon," Melisandre replied.

"Jon is dead," Edd said.

"Jon is right there," Melisandre said back, pointing at Ghost, "The Red God must have use for him yet if he allowed Jon and Ghost to join like this."

Edd looked in confusion at Ghost, but Ghost seemed to as if nod to Edd again. He opened his mouth to speak, but could not find his voice. How could such a thing be possible? Those ways were long dead.

"Jon is a _warg_," Edd said in awe.

"It would appear so," the Red Priestess said, "Though I do not know how this could be, considering that his human body has been taken. We need fire for these wounds."

"But fire would destroy him," Edd said.

"Fire is the purest death," Melisandre said, "and it is the greatest cleanser of impurity. Jon must be made pure."

"I don't understand," Edd said.

"Nor will you," Melisandre replied, "You must only have faith. The direwolf must stay here, but you need to leave."

Melisandre than began to pray as Edd left them. Ghost looked at Melisandre warily, not taking his eyes off of her, yet putting trust in her at the same time. When after she was done with her prayer, she lit a fire and looked to Ghost.

"In order for this to work," Melisandre began, "I need your blood. This is because of your connection to Jon. I won't kill you, but I need your blood to give life to his body. Normally only death can pay for life, but the payment is not required if the life is still existent. And Jon's life is in you."

Ghost walked toward Melisandre, a low growl in his voice. Melisandre heard the growl, her eyes always looking into Ghost's. Melisandre, with a knife in hand, knelt down and took one of Ghost's paws. She made a small incision that drew enough blood for the ritual to be completed. She then smeared the blood upon Jon's chest and then bound Ghost's wound. For a moment, Ghost heard a voice in the flame. _'Snow'_ it repeated quietly over and over again. Melisandre glanced over the flame as well. A frown was upon her face. She shook her head and walked closer to the fire. Her hands heated from the fire and the warmth seemed greater than it did before.

Ghost kept his eyes upon the Red Priestess as she began to knell and pray before the flame. In response, the flame bust blue. Both Ghost and Melisandre were taken back by the flame's sudden change in color. It seemed to grow bigger and brighter as Melisandre backed away from it.

_"Snow,"_ the flame called again, louder this time. The flame grew out of control.

Ghost and Melisandre retreated from the tent and looked back as the bright blue flames engulfed the tent. Melisandre stared at the tent in utter confusion, but the flames went on and on until the dawn came. It was then when Ghost, Melisandre, and Edd looked at the burnt area, but in the center stood of the ruin stood Jon Snow, naked, and yet unharmed. His scars visible, yet fully healed. He looked at them, his eyes had a fire in them that shown as brightly as the stars.

"Winter has come," he said, "Night gathers, and now our watch begins."


	4. Chapter 3

A Song of Light and Shadow

**Hey, guys! Thanks for the reviews and the follows. Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Work before play, as it were…. Unless, of course, one plans on making Jack a dull boy…. Yes, I used a reference to the Shining. What? Oh come on, it isn't that cliché! Alright, back to the story!**

Chapter 3

Tyrion

Tyrion Lannister sat under a tree, the sun beating down upon him. The lands of the Slaver's Bay were warmer than Westeros. However, even in the warmth of Slaver's was considerably less than what it was during the summer. Winter was here. The Starks were right about that in the end, even though they were all thought to be dead.

Of Sansa and Arya, he knew little, but knew that Robb, Bran, and Rickon were dead. Stone cold in the, well, stone cold of the North. Tyrion couldn't help but smile sadly at his own wit. In truth, he would have helped the Starks bring that bastard, Joffery, to justice. That was, if he had proof of Joffery's plot to assassinate Bran. He hated his nephew, Joffery. He hated Cersei, his sister. And then there was his brother, Jamie. He both loved and hated Jamie. He hated Jamie far more than he loved him, but still, Tyrion loved him. He loved him because Jamie was the only person in the world that gave a damn about Tyrion.

Jamie was the only one who showed Tyrion love or kindess… until Jamie told Tyrion the truth about Tysha. It was for the lie, the destruction of Tyrion's marriage with her, that Tyrion hated Jamie. It may have been the only unkindness that Jamie showed Tyrion, but it was also an unforgivable betrayal. Tyrion could not and would not stand for such a thing. And now, Tyrion betrayed his entire family. However, Tyrion needed something to believe in, to fight for. If Tyrion could no longer believe in and fight for his family, then he needed something else. Something that would help him to forgive himself for his past sins. This Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, was that something. Surly she could help him to restore honor to his family's name. The name of Lannister was already besmirched for a very long time, now. And it began whit the fall of Mad King, Aerys.

Damn him. And damn Robert Baratheon too. Rhaegar should have been seated on the Iron Throne. Rhaegar would have brought peace to Westeros for a long time. But Rhaegar died before his father. Rhaegar failed, in the end, to bring peace to Westeros. Though, it could have been argued that Rhaegar was just as mad for not doing anything about his own father's madness. Damn them all.

Tyrion shook his head and closed his eyes. He could not place blame on anyone. The past was the past. All Tyrion could truly do saw study the past until he could find some way to prevent it from repeating itself. Yet, the Slaver's Bay was in just as much rebellion as Westeros was. With Daenerys gone, Tyrion thought that history may well repeat itself anyway. She had been gone for three weeks. Her and all of her dragons.

Shortly after Daenerys left on Drogon's back, her other two dragons disappeared the next day. The Yunkai were to slaughter the other two dragons, and they came close, but the dragons fled before the Yunkai could touch them. A few of them died in the dragons' fire, but it was expected. Dragons will put up a fight. Which was why Tyrion wondered why they did not fight to the death to defend their homes. Dragons were odd creatures, and Tyrion knew little of them, but Tyrion figured they were very territorial, considering the stories….. Well, at least Aegon, and every other Targaryen ruler, was very territorial, but what king isn't?

"I figured you would be trying to persuade the Second Sons to wait further on Daenerys," a deep male voice said.

Tyrion opened his turned to see Jorah Mormont standing to his right. Tyrion smiled when he saw the loyal fool.

"I am," Tyrion replied, taking a sip of wine from his nearby wineskin, "I am watching the skies for our missing queen, or her dragons."

"I thought you were taking a nap," Jorah said with a smile.

"Keeping watch for queens is a tiring business," Tyrion replied, "It is rare to spot a queen. Think of it like hunting, my dear Mormont. You need to be patient,"

"It depends on what you are hunting, where you are hunting for it, and when you are hunting for it," Jorah laughed, but then his face turned serious, "You know the Sons won't wait forever, even if you have promised them riches for serving her."

"They haven't sworn utter fealty to her yet," Tyrion said.

"No, they haven't," Jorah said, "and I fear they never will if she is gone any longer."

"I find it astounding that you doubt if she will return," Tyrion said, "I, for one, thought you had only hope in her."

"I do," Jorah said defensively, "but I don't think that sitting around and waiting for her is a wise course of action. Maybe is we sent riders….."

"And how do suppose a man on a horse is going to find a woman on dragon-back?" Tyrion snapped, "She could be anywhere at any time. Sending riders would only be a waste of men."

Jorah fell silent for a moment. If Daenerys didn't want to found, she wasn't going to be found. Tyrion stared at Jorah, and knew that Jorah understood that. However, Jorah was a fool in love with a woman that was high above his station. He could only love her from afar. Tyrion felt sorry for him, but Tyrion also knew that Mormont's love for Daenerys was not a good idea. It would be the undoing to one or both of them. Tyrion was not about to see Daenerys fail. He couldn't let Daenerys fail.

"I'm sorry," spoke Jorah quietly, "I just want to find her."

"You and everyone else," Tyrion replied sarcastically, "Though not everyone's intentions for finding her are as honorable as ours. She will be back. We just have to wait."

Tyrion's thoughts went back to his home. They went to Westeros, Casterly Rock, they went to the family that he both loved and hated, and they went to Tysha. Tysha. Gods, why didn't he make her rich and fool his father? Why didn't he just run away from Casterly Rock with her? He quietly cursed himself for not taking care of her as he should have. He cursed his father and brother for taking her from him. Tywin deserved to die, and Jamie did as well. Though, Jamie did not deserve to die like Cersei did. Tyrion vowed to rape and kill Cersei. Tywin took much from him, but Cersei took everything else. However, even though Tyrion did want revenge, he also wanted to be better than the family that stabbed him the back. He hated the thought, but he couldn't go off killing all of his family members. Only the ones that deserved to die a traitor's death. That started with Tywin, but he wanted it to end with Jamie.

Tyrion closed his eyes again, thinking more on Tysha. He would have given anything to see her again. Anything and everything to hold her in his arms. However, Tyrion's thoughts were cut short when he felt a breeze upon his face. It felt nice, but the more he thought on it, the breeze did not stop. It kept going, and it kept increasing in power the longer it lasted. Tyrion stood up and walked outside of the shade he had grown accustom to. He gave Jorah an inquisitive look that Jorah also had. At least Tyrion wasn't alone in the feel of the breeze, which was now turning into a gust of wind. Jorah too walked out with Tyrion as they felt the gusts grow more powerful. Suddenly, they heard a tremendous roar. They two men looked north and saw three dragons drawing nearer and nearer. Jorah gasped in wonder at how big they now were while Tyrion let his jaw drop in the wonder and amazement of actually seeing dragons.

The dragons circled around the Second Sons before they landed. Tyrion was not sure if he should walk up to have a closer look or not. However, he was in so much awe that he could not walk even if he wanted to. The dragons were awesome, majestic, and yet terrible to behold. The sheer power of their wings alone was enough to make Tyrion believe a storm was coming. Though, metaphorically, a storm was coming. It was coming for Westeros.

Daenerys dismounted the largest of the three. The dragon was black, it would it had not yet reached a height that gave dragons such a fearful name, but Tyrion knew that even it would still be a formidable foe for anything and everything. Daenerys had a graceful walk, and she was more beautiful than Tyrion had imagined her to be. She certainly looked like a Targaryen, and, from what Tyrion had heard about her, there was now no doubt in his mind that she was Targaryen. She looked at the company of the Second Sons. In truth, the Second Sons had betrayed her, but Tyrion's mission was to bring them back to her. With Daenerys return, Tyrion had succeeded in his task. Of course, the only thing he had to do now was actually make sure she didn't bathe him in dragon fire for his family betraying the Targaryens.

Daenerys eyed each and every man until they rested upon Tyrion and Jorah. There was an odd look in her eyes. They betrayed confusion, joy, sadness, and anger. However, anger was the emotion that took over. Tyrion knew this would happen, but he had hoped in vain that he was wrong. He, of course, was wrong. Very, very wrong.

"My lord, Tyrion," Jorah said quietly, "I do believe that we have fucked our last whore."

"My lord, Mormont," Tyrion replied sarcastically, "your ability to observe the obvious is astounding."


End file.
